Page 82 of Rebel Bride
“How’s the hockey camp going? I heard Dash is doing it too.”
“Yeah, it’s good. Could you sit for a second?”
She looked at the sofa like it might swallow her up, then took a seat in one corner, telegraphing a clear signal that I should sit at the opposite end and not try anything. She placed the glass on a coaster on the coffee table.
“Carter seems to think ignoring you will make you sweat. And that somehow, he’ll … get you back.”
Her eyebrows slammed together. “He said that?”
“More or less. The fact that you ran out on him means you’re either playing hard to get, which he likes, or the ultimate game of chicken, which he also likes. But he also wants to make you suffer, which is why he’s not answering your calls.”
She considered that for a moment. “He must be really hurting.”
“Sure, so bad.” Women would employ the weirdest mental acrobatics to construe the best in a guy’s motives.
She narrowed her eyes. “Some people manifest their hurt by acting out. Dash is used to getting what he wants and when he doesn’t, he constructs narratives to cover what he’s seeing. Me leaving him doesn’t make sense, so he’d rather invent reasons that show him in a better light. I’m indecisive, flighty, unpredictable. Resistant to his charms, but not really. Playing games to get an edge. It’s a form of gaslighting, and I won’t be falling for it.”
Her intuition surprised me. I had thought she’d feel sorry for him, but she moved on from that quickly to a nice deconstruction of Carter’s behavior. I had no idea if she was right, but it sounded right.
However, her next words sounded the opposite of right. “I need to talk to him.”
Everything in me rebelled at this outlandish notion. “Not a good idea.”
“He might be a jerk, but I behaved like one, and I have to apologize.”
She stood and headed to the door. I chased her down.
“Now?”
“Yes—well, after I walk Cody Jacobs’ basset hound. That’s also on my list. The sooner I talk to Dash, the sooner we can both move on. If I can convince Ryder that Dash and I are capable of being civil, then I could get my job back. Or an internship.”
That made a twisted sort of sense. But I hated—hated—the idea of Summer spending any time with Carter. Maybe I should talk to Ryder. Take any leverage away from Carter.
“He wants you back.”
She placed a hand on my arm. “Unlikely. But more important, I don’t want him. I’m not sure I ever did.”
I moved closer, needing to be near her. Craving a moment breathing her air. She was here in my home, a bed, a sofa, a kitchen counter all within range, and I was supposed to let her go to talk to her ex and suffer through his mind games?
She turned the knob on the door and pulled it ajar.
I shut it. “What I said at the diner?—”
“In the utility closet?”
“With the paper towels and the toilet paper and the light bulbs as my witness. I meant it. I want to see you. Properly.”
“You’ve seen me properly. On the hood of your car at the lake. Then again in the no-pool pool house. Good Lord, you’ve seen every inch of me, but Summer is now closed for business.” She waved over her body in case I didn’t get it, which just made me crave that body more. “I have to piece my life together and starting up something with you cannot be part of it.”
She opened the door a few inches and I placed my hand on her hip, pulling her close.
“I thought you were all about honesty these days. Be honest and tell me you’re not feeling anything here.”
Her hand touched my chest. Burned a hole into my soul. She peered up at me with glossy eyes, blazing with emotion.
“You’re right, I can’t tell you that. But it doesn’t matter. We can’t all be acting on animal instinct and doing whatever the hell we want. I need the space, and I’d appreciate if you gave it to me.”
Only a dick would refuse a request like that. Was I a dick? Where Summer was concerned, maybe. But I could also be a dick who respected his woman.
